Chapter 4: Sanitizing the Town
Ultimately, the servo-skull guided him to the area with the most concentrated and stable thermal signatures: a subterranean maintenance access hatch on the edge of the town square.
The heavy metal cover was corroded and seized shut, but with a minor exertion of force from his servo-arm, the metal groaned, buckled, and was torn away.
Below was a small pumping station or storage chamber, now infested with a larger, more numerous nest of the mutated vermin. They had made it their lair, filling it with gnawed animal remains and various indigestible scraps of refuse. The stench that billowed out was nauseating.
"Physical purge. Conserve maximum energy," Joric issued the concise directive.
The servo-skull darted into the dark space first, using low-power electro-shocks and ultrasonic pulses to effectively herd and disorient the pack. Joric himself stood guard at the narrow entrance like a sentinel. His mechadendrites became an efficient net of death, lashing out with precision to pierce and crush any creature that tried to bolt for the exit.
It was a silent, efficient, and entirely one-sided cleansing. Within minutes, no signs of life remained in the nest.
With all immediate threats purged, Joric began a systematic scan and assessment of the town's resources. The servo-skull expanded its search parameters.
++Small electrical substation located. Northwest sector. Primary structure is intact, but main power source—rooftop solar array—is completely obscured by sand and debris. Multiple output conduits exhibit age-related fractures. Assessment: Repairable. Requires cleansing of solar array and replacement of conduit sections.++
++Deep-water well and associated pump mechanism located. Central plaza. Well shaft is intact, but electric pump motor exhibits severe corrosion. Power supply is completely severed. Assessment: Repairable. Requires rust removal, lubrication, and restoration of power.++
++Current garage workshop exhibits highest structural stability. Entrance is defensible and can be reinforced. Internal space offers high utility. Recommendation: Establish as primary sanctum and manufactorum.++
The energy level of his internal micro-fusion reactor was still hovering near the critical low-power threshold. The anomalous energy drain from the dimensional transit had been staggering, far exceeding the theoretical values required to sustain his body and facilitate the jump. He strongly suspected that the lion's share of the missing energy had been greedily absorbed by the archeotech relic at his belt, which now rested in perfect, innocent silence.
Because of this, his every action had to be calculated with a level of efficiency bordering on miserliness.
He activated the laser cutter on his wrist at its lowest power setting. The beam was so faint it was almost red as he carefully excised the most intact metal sections from the garage's ruined roll-up door. Then, using the strength of his mechadendrites, he bent and riveted the pieces into a crude but sturdy barricade, temporarily sealing the workshop's only entrance.
Only after this was done did he allow his logic circuits to relax. He had a relatively secure base, he had identified sources of power and water (though both needed repair), and he had eliminated the immediate vermin.
The first step in this strange new world had been taken, and it was a solid one.
"This has proceeded more smoothly than anticipated," he said to himself, surveying the dilapidated garage that would be his new beginning. "At least here there are no whispers from the Warp to be constantly banished with prayers, nor must I calculate ammunition expenditure at the first sight of a Greenskin."
After careful consideration, Joric had decided against using the more prominent but structurally compromised town hall or the larger warehouses. The garage he had cleared and fortified was the perfect size, solidly built, and more importantly, it gave him a sense of complete control over his environment. For a Tech-Priest, control was often more important than grandeur.
The first priority: Power.
His reactor desperately needed an external charge to escape the critical zone, but before that, he had to make the sanctum self-sufficient. He spent the better part of the day painstakingly clearing the solar panel array atop the substation, which was buried under a thick layer of sand and detritus. His mechadendrites proved to be the most efficient tools for the job, brushing and hauling with tireless precision.
Next, using the rusted, barely-functional tools from the garage and salvaging usable wiring and components from the "dedicated" cleaning drone and derelict vehicles, he began the meticulous process of repairing the main power line to the substation.
The work was tedious and repetitive, yet it brought him a strange sense of peace. Applying the ancient knowledge of the Cult Mechanicus—the deep, sacred truths of energy flow, material resistance, and circuit logic—to breathe life back into a long-dormant system always filled him with the purest satisfaction.
"Praise the Omnissiah. The foundational logic of the cosmos is universal," he chanted under his breath as he carefully connected the final repaired conduit to the terminal, then solemnly threw the rust-caked main breaker.
A low, steady hum slowly rose in the air. On the substation's control panel, several indicator lights that had been dark for Throne-knows-how-many years flickered, struggled, and finally stabilized, glowing with a warm yellow and green light.
"Success! Power output… stable at 17%. Far below design specifications, but sufficient to maintain basic illumination, tool operation, and my own low-power recharging requirements." A clear sense of accomplishment flooded his processing core.
He prioritized routing power to the workshop's lighting sockets and to himself. A makeshift cable of mismatched wires was connected to the power input port on his back. The long-awaited sensation of an energy influx—however faint and unstable—made him almost want to sigh in relief like a carbon-based lifeform. The reactor's anxiety-inducing power drain had finally been arrested.
The next priority: Water.
The corrosion on the deep-well pump was a more physically demanding test of patience. He had no ready-made replacement parts, but that was no obstacle. The laser cutter, set to its finest point, acted as a surgical scalpel, carefully excising the completely seized sections of pipe. He then scavenged metal tubing of a similar diameter from abandoned vehicles, held it in place with his mechadendrites, and used his wrist-laser to perform precise, high-temperature welds. This consumed more of his precious energy reserves, but the result was worth it.
After connecting the repaired circuit, the ancient pump began to thud with a deep, powerful rhythm, like a heart that had been dormant for years, now beating once more. Murky groundwater was forced to the surface. It passed through a multi-layer filtration system he had jury-rigged from an old barrel, gravel, charcoal fragments, and a surprisingly intact ceramic filter he had found, emerging significantly clearer.
"Behold," he said to the hovering servo-skull, a hint of pride in his voice. "A deficit of resources is never the true obstacle. The only true failing is a deficit of knowledge and application." The servo-skull's jaw clicked twice, as if in agreement.
With stable power and a source of basic purified water, the true work of turning scrap into sanctum could begin.